Archive for September, 2006


September 30, 2006

Look in my eyes
For I mean you no ill
The thing that you fear
Is not dying but life
In me what you see
Is absolute unity,
Experienced need
Joins to instant fulfillment.
I need what I take
And I take what I need,
I cannot be stopped
For my nature is motion.
When the fire in my belly
Runs hot then I prey,
Searching for sacrifice
to feed to the flame.
I see not your heart,
your hopes, your emotions,
but only the yearning
for freedom in burning,
to be consumed by the fire
of the god in my belly.
For my friend, The Wolfman

Be loved,




September 29, 2006

The Things I Do
I’m typing this as I’m waiting for the glue to dry on my envelope. I’m using a stamp that I placed on another envelope that was never sent. Instead of just tossing it like reasonable people would do, I steamed it off so that I could reuse it. Problem is, the backing is gone. I looked for the super glue, finding it behind an old birds nest in a drawer that I haven’t explored for ages.
The glue had long since gone the way of all flesh, having crumbled to dust along with the Sphinx’s mother.
Then I remembered back in third grade science class how we combined flour and water to make paste. I applied the mixture vigorously to the back of the stamp, affixing it to the envelope, and now am waiting for it to dry. At that point I should be able to post it. It’s quite urgent that I get this out this week.
I hope the I.R.S. appreciates the lengths to which I go for them.
The Encounter

This shot captures the instant when you first sense the mysterious depth of the one you’re with, a sacred moment. Either that, or he hasn’t eaten in a while.

These two seem to be in their own world, carefree and serene.

There’s passion and mystery between these two worthy of a John Lecarre mystery.

Be loved,



September 28, 2006

Dear Chaucer,
Fall has finally arrived here in the desert. I don’t mean on the calendar, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. I mean the air is softer on the skin, even when the temperature climbs.
The mountains look a little softer, with a little bit of green in their color now, a relief from the uniform tan of summer.
The coyotes aren’t quite as evident now as they were in the height of the heat wave. With the slight cooling they’re heading back up the mountain, leaving the valley to us humans.

I’ve decided I’m willing to try to communicate with a few of the people from my past, if you promise me that you’ll respect my privacy, and above all keep the bible thumping to yourself.
There are other ways to read the bible than we were taught.

I’ve decided to rejoin the human race after all, but I’m not in any sort of hurry. I’m taking this one step at a time. I’m meeting people. I’ve talked to a few fellows and even gone out a time or two. Well all right, that may be a tiny understatement. But you need to know that I’m not “in sin”, it’s who I am and who I’m going to be for the rest of my life. It’s not a behavior or a chosen “lifestyle”, it’s me plain and simple. Can you deal with that? I hope so.

I even started going to church again. There’s this little Episcopal priest down here with the sweetest smile. I absolutely have a crush on him, but then I crush on just about anyone with a nice smile. He’s from somewhere in central Africa doing his thesis, and they had to hide him from his superiors back home. It seems the African Episcopalians are trying to kill all the faggots these days. Seriously, they’re pushing legislation back home to make it a capital crime to be homosexual, or even to speak on a homosexual’s behalf. So he’s hiding out here, taking as long as he can to finish up his degrees, hoping no one back home notices he’s been gone too long.
We had a long talk, and he doesn’t seem to mind me, he just wants me to behave in church.
So now I go down on Saturdays and clean the church to make it nice for services on Sunday.
It got out somehow that I do music, and they’re already trying to get me to do some solo work. I think I’ll leave before I let that happen. I won’t let that circus start all over again, all the promoting and performing, getting lifted up and then thrown down. I can’t and won’t deal with that, so if they’ll let me, I’ll just pretty up the place on the weekends. I really do want to feel like I’m a part of some kind of spiritual community. I just won’t be in any kind of leadership.
Another thing I love to do is walk in the mornings, just before daybreak. I go out into the untracked desert where it seems like the dawn of time, almost paradise.You can see the most incredible things here, if you just pay attention. I saw a coyote sitting motionless in front of the skeleton of a saguaro cactus in which a rabbit was sitting as still as a rock, both waiting for the other to tire so they could make their move. Neither one stirred for the longest time. I left them still sitting, as patient as the mountains. They knew that at that moment in their lives, there was nothing more important that they could be doing.
I love the huge Saguaro cactuses. I saw one that was measured at 46 feet, with dozens of branches. They said it was over 100 years old. It was slowly dying, but fighting to keep it’s hold on life.
These saguaro have the most beautiful blooms. The Indians harvest them and make a liquor out of them. They work for weeks and weeks to make this cactus juice, and then they have a 3 day blowout. After that they wait for next years harvest.
My life has been a lot like that, short bursts of tremendous activity and accomplishment followed by waiting.
Well, that’s about all the serious communication I can manage for now. Please write and send me all the latest news from Hell. I check my mail faithfully, about once a week, down at the trading post/general post office. Sometimes I miss a week, but I usually have to go for groceries.
Just promise me you won’t start telling everybody. I can’t handle people coming around wanting me to “be” something for them. I think the worst thing for me is that they want me to be what they refuse to be for themselves. It’s too much for me to try to “be” anything for myself, much less anybody else.
Maybe that’s what this season is about for me, learning to just be, not to do or to be something for someone, but just to be.
Most of my socializing is with the local desert rats. We understand each other. All being fugitives, we recognize one another.
I realized one day that they had just quit playing the game of pretense. That’s all.
I’ll be meeting the boys to pass around a bottle of something or other before dinner. I’ll tell them all Hi for you. I know you’d love to meet them. They look rough, but they’re really a sweet bunch.
Take care of yourself.


Desert Fauna

A lonely lad, with only a cowskull for company. Where is Georgia O’Keefe when we need her?

In these boys live the spirits of Jacob and Esau, who wrestled each other almost to death.

A perfect spot for a sunbath. Got tanning lotion?

Be loved,



September 27, 2006

I’ve been cruising MySpace lately, having way too much fun. In my inbox this morning I find invites from Cooolhonney and Durrtygurly. Oddly enough, they are identical twins . Excitingly, I think they both have web cams, and links to pay sites, where you can see girls who don’t look like them at all. Probably relatives. How togetherly. All one big, happy family, helping each other out on the family porn site.

MSN = FLASHYBOO@HOTMAIL.COM (DONT USE THE MSN ON MY PIC ITS OLD) AIM = SIZZYBELLA (DONT USE THE AIM ON MY PIC ITS OLD) ———————————— I am special.. I am horny… I am fun and caring and loveable. I like to go out and have fun with the girls and I love oral sex and surfing lol.. I also love to skate in the winter and going out with a hot guy to dinner then maybe some fun at his place! ———————————— Turn-ons: Abs,asses, boobs, tongues, tattoos, piercings, soft skin, shaved down there, eyes, lips, tight jeans, hot cologne, motor bikes, hot cars, 3-somes, porn, chocolate!!! Turn-offs: Smelly people, hairy people, loud people, cheap people, liars, idiots, racist people! **************************************************
A Satanist/Magician sent me a friend invite, too. I think I’ll accept that one. He looks like fun. At least I’m pretty sure he’s human, not inflatable. DurrtyGurly and Cooolhonney are just going to have to learn to live with the bitter sting of rejection. If someone pulls the plug on them, they’ll go back into storage nicely. I’m just not into durrtygurrls on webcams. Durrtybois on webcams are another matter altogether. I know several of those.
Of course, no one has to be this pretty to be my friend. It’s a good thing too, because hardly anyone is this pretty.

I wish I knew his secret. I just can’t get my abs to stay flexed when I’m sleeping, not to mention the veins popping out on his forehead. Poor boy, he’s probably been under stress. I could help with that.

A good stretch gets my blood pumping. My friend Ur-Spo would call him a chew toy.

I believe this lad’s getting an Endorphin rush just from flexing his arm.

Teamwork is so important these days. No Lone Rangers here.

Be loved,



September 26, 2006

I seem to live in a zoned out state, not meaning Arizona. Although Arizona is rich in herbal halucinogens, that’s not what I meant. I meant that I don’t need anything herbal. I’m dithering. Let me start over.
Recently, I sent a letter to a beloved friend, living in Canada. I’m perfectly well aware that Canada is a sovereign nation, with their own taxes, their own postal rates, their own government, in short all the accoutrements of a civilized nation. As far as I know, they even have television.
So it would follow then that I should check on the postal rates to send letters into Canada. That would be the most elementally simple thing to do. Except I didn’t do it. The day after I sent it, something in my head went “Sproing”, and I called the Postmaster General of our desert mining town, who cheerfully informed me that my letter had been sent along and somewhere down the line it would be tagged and sent back. She also told me to remember to bring the wine to the Luau, but that’s not part of the story. I was a little nervous because there was money in the envelope, not a lot, but any amount makes it stealable.
Well, a miracle occurred. The post office sent it through, even though it had insufficient postage.
My friend wrote me to tell me it had arrived. I had as much pleasure hearing from him as knowing the letter arrived.
P.G. Wodehouse, one of the great stylistic masters of the English language, lived on the 10th floor of a Manhattan hotel. When he was writing to his friends, he would carefully address and stamp the envelope and throw it out the window. A passerby would invariably spot it and put it in the mailbox. He was a wonderful man.

This Joe Phillips image portrays my predisposition toward law enforcement pretty well. I stole this from Derreck, the hottest boy philosopher on the block.
Be Loved,



September 25, 2006

psycho_Claw by Frau Landers of Deviant

Vera called. The one time I pick up the phone without seeing who it is, and it’s HER. Damn…
After 16 years, she calls me up to do her and her new boyfriend a favor. She’s happy, because he’s out on parole now, and they want to get married. I swear it’s true.

I met Vera when I was young and stupid, an Assistant Pastor in a little country church in Louisiana. This town wasn’t even on the parish maps, population 50 or something like that. One of my prime functions there was to keep peace between the local gris gris woman and the Episcopalian pastor. I guess being semi-Pentecostal was regarded as being somewhere between the two enough to act as moderator. The Episcopalian liked me because I’d been to school and could read Greek and Hebrew. Mama gris gris liked me because she’d heard me pray for people and decided I had “the juice”. I thought they were both ok in their way. I liked the Voodoo woman more though. She had cool parties.
Vera took one look at me and saw her ticket out of town. She was the ninth of eleven children. The family was very proud of the fact that several of the kids had finished high school. In this community unemployment ran to about 60%. Alcoholism ran to about the same figures. Unwed mothers were far more common than wed ones, and drug trafficking was a primary source of income. It kept the local economy moving. I think she liked me, but mostly she thought I could get her out of town. I would have been desperate to get out too, if I hadn’t been such a do gooder. But I liked the attention she gave me, a lot. All I had to do was close my eyes and picture a man and I was in Heaven. We got married in less than six months and moved far away from her family. I knew they were bad, but I didn’t know how bad until later.
One side of her was breathtakingly sweet, like an angel. I really loved her. I privately thought that if I could love her enough, I wouldn’t have to psyche myself to make love to her.
She was so shy she wouldn’t let me see her in the bathroom for the first several weeks we were together. She would wait ’til I left the house. I only caught her because I had to come back in to retrieve a forgotten item. After that, I couldn’t go to the toilet alone. One thing I’ve never understood about women is the tendency to view going to the toilet as a social event.
Late on she morphed into something like Travis in Taxi Driver, over on the dark side. Since Vera, I’ve had some wildly exciting weekends with Travis types, but a psychotic woman with an automatic weapon is just unappealing to me. When it’s a guy, I want to meet him. I secretly have this idea in my mind that I just know I can make him happy enough to straighten out all those murderous little quirks in his character(No worries, I generally restrain myself in time).When it’s a woman, I just turn and walk away.
At first I felt guilty that I had to think of men to make love to her, but after a while I just accepted it. The sex was earthshaking, too. She would squeal and scream like a banshee, while I moaned and roared like a wounded lion. We would go into this whole body clench thing, screaming and moaning, waking the neighbors in the next apartments. The next day they would give each other Significant Looks as we walked by. It was great.

Vera desperately wanted a baby. I think she believed it would redeem her past. But cruelly, she had an early miscarriage. I came home from work to find her on the edge of the bed crying. I’m pretty sure she believed that God was punishing her for what she considered the sins of her youth. I just held her for a long, long time.
After that though, things went downhill pretty rapidly. She got into crack, and decided she liked it. There was this fellow in the neighborhood, who liked to help out girls with their need. It seems he had this “service”.
Before too long, Vera was turning tricks for crack. Once, I had to go get her when it turned into an ugly scene. Another time I came back home and caught her with a trick in our bed. The guy managed to get out through the bathroom window. A few times I answered the door to find strangers asking for Vera. This kind of stuff went on for a little while, before she blew out of town with her dealer/pimpdaddy.
After that, for me it was pretty much over. I didn’t really hate her, because I knew how hard she had tried, before she gave up. She came from a family of incest. Daddy had played with all of his little girls, and there were 6 girls, and 5 boys. She despised herself and worshipped her Daddy. She also believed God hated her. I hate superstition.
But I also kind of blamed myself, for not wanting her physically. It was a long time before I found out just how common that is with guys.
But for sure I didn’t want her back. I felt like I did everything I could to hold it together, and I was done with it.
A friend of mine had some friends in the DEA, and they fixed it so I could get an annulment. Vera just disappeared for the next several years, which is easy to do in rural Louisiana.

Fifteen years later, and she calls up, wanting me to go down to the courthouse in Tucson, and pick up a copy of the annulment decree, so she can get married to her new demon lover.
I wonder what he thinks about when they’re together? Maybe I should pull him off to the side and find out. He’s a bad boy, it could be fun. What a way to get revenge.
Nah… I don’t want to stir that kettle again.
It never ends.
Look closely at this. I think you’ll be amazed.

The artist is Kuniyoshi. Here’s a hint. He has naked men crawling all over his face.

Be loved,


P.S. This was originally posted May 13, 2006. I’ve added some detail to the original, and changed the graphics.


September 24, 2006

Awesome day today. It looked rainy and thunderstormy this morning, but we went up the mountain anyway. It was raining so the front road was closed. That meant no tourists, which was perfect for us. Rusty has a four wheel drive Jeep, so we went the back way up the mountain, all the way to the top. We brought stuff like beef jerky and bottled water, and a giant sleeping bag, in case we needed to, uhhhhm, rest.
I did manage to take a few shots before the batteries went out.
And we did take a nice nap. Actually we napped twice, and er, slept in between. We both love to nap, so when we get the chance, we do it a lot.

This is the only shot that came out halfway decently. The road up Mount Lemmon was built entirely by convict labor back in the 1930’s. Interestingly, no one knows exactly how many convicts died during the construction because no records have survived, but it was quite a few. I was told that they assigned men serving life sentences who had no families. That gives you an idea.
But I thanked them for building it for us anyway.

Be Loved,



September 23, 2006


You have a sexual IQ of 153

When it comes to sex, you are a super genius. You have had a lot of experience, and sex interests you so you know a lot about it. You pride yourself on being a source of information and guidance to all of your friends.

80% Ghetto …

To you sex is about being as ghetto as possible all of the time. This is most likely due to your enjoyment of sex (leading to an “anyone, anywhere” type of attitude) as well as constantly losing your grip on reality.

‘How sexually ghetto are you?’ at

Take this quiz at

Be Loved,



September 22, 2006


Man Who Entered Home Later Found Naked:

Thursday, September 21, 2006
TEXARKANA, Ark. – Police went to a home after receiving a report that he had entered it illegally and later found their suspect running nude through a pasture.

Tim Smith, 19, of Texarkana was charged with residential burglary, third-degree assault, fleeing, disorderly conduct and refusal to submit to arrest. No bond was set and he was being held for a mental evaluation.

Here’s the lowdown:
Tim walked in through Linda Smith’s front door, and told her he was sent to have sex with her. He must have felt the “call”.
Linda must be a pretty level headed girl because she simply said, “I don’t think so.” Then she told him that he needed to go now. At that point he was still dressed.
Well, Tim got so upset at this, that he stripped down in her living room and ran off with a pair of shoes(not his own). He ran out into a nearby pasture, and was seen running naked among the horses, playing GrabAss with them. It is not known how the horses responded to his advances. No one thought to ask them how they felt about it.

Information from: Texarkana Gazette,
Of course it all makes perfect sense to me.
Today is a busy, busy day for me. I just finished sending out billing for the month, which I managed to complete in record time. So I’m feeling more than usually competent today. It doesn’t take a great deal to make me feel that way since I don’t usually feel all that competent. So it’s nice.
And Holly is staying here all day. I’ve been good friends with Jim and Holly for a long time. Holly is a brilliant and accomplished woman who also has Frontal Lobe Disease. Her speech, coordination and memory are fading fast, but all her perceptual ability is intact and sharp as a razor. She’s a little bit like Gary that I wrote about a day or two ago, except that her button stays pushed.
For example, when my co worker arrived to take over for the afternoon, he brought some coffee beans, some new blend that he created, wanting me to try it. I made a pot of espresso and we sat around acting like the pathetic coffee snobs that we are, until Holly couldn’t take it any more. She howled with laughter, telling us that we were the two “biggest old Queens” in Southern Arizona. I didn’t care since she’s basically right, but Rex thinks he’s straight(and I don’t want him to change his mind).
Rex made a somewhat abrupt departure. I wonder why?
Then we watched some super old Charlie Chaplin DVD’s, a bunch of short one reeler’s dating from 1914. We laughed all afternoon. Those were some of the gayest flicks. I’m convinced the actors knew just how much they could get away with, and pushed it to the limit. One featured Charlie in drag, stalking his girlfriend all over town. She was a slut, throwing herself at anything in pants. But whatcha gonna do? Charlie had it bad for her.
I scored about 20 DVD’s like that from the dollar store. Along with Chaplin, I found Buster Keaton, Hitchcock, Danny Kaye and Cary Grant. I found a whole bunch of cool Mexican flicks from the 40’s and 50’s. I love stuff like that. It’s like they had Free Fag Movies Night at BlockBuster.
We had a great time.
Be sure to budget some chill out time this weekend.

Just buds, hanging on the sofa.

Rather self consciously napping. Very Bruce Weber.

It’s not just seeing him in my bed in the morning that lifts me, it seeing him in my bed in the morning with that smile on his face that sends me to the moon.

Be Loved,



September 21, 2006

1. Still on top with “Queer Sheep“.
2. Someone actually found me by searching for “Daniel desert review Pope Statement“. What are the odds? While I’m rather proud of my succinct response to the Popes statements, I hope I didn’t scare the searcher too badly.
3. “Clover tattos”-That’s how they spelled it.
4. “70’s movie boy desert disease“- I have a difficult time imagining what they could be looking for, but it brought them to my door. For that I’m grateful.
5. “What a comrade is“- This at least is an intelligible search term.
6. “Mexican Gay wolves“-It warms my heart that there are people out there who care for the plight of the endangered Mexican Gay Wolf.
7. “Caned in Speedos“- If you’re the one who searched this, please e mail me.

It seems obvious to me that people travel down some pretty twisted paths to arrive at my door. Cool.

Man’s Lost Gnome Attends Steelers Game

MORGANTOWN, W.Va. – Allen Snyder’s garden gnome is apparently out of jail and now traveling the country. The 14-inch tall red-and-white statue disappeared from Snyder’s Morgantown yard in the spring, and Snyder has since received three letters claiming to have been written by “Gnomey.”

The latest letter, which Snyder received this week, included photos of the gnome in the company of Steelers fans attending Pittsburgh’s football home opener.

“You never took me to any games,” the note said.

Ur-Spo, You treat James right, you hear?

Long before Pizarro arrived on the shores of the Not So New World, the locals had been growing Coca leaf for use as a tea or just for chewing the leaf of the plant. The word “coca” is derived from the Quechua word “kuka”. Quechua is the language of the Incas, still spoken today all over the Andes region. In recent years it’s been making a comeback, to the point where it’s even taught in schools.
I’m told that it’s still possible to order Mate de Coca, or Coca tea, in restaurants in South America. It’s a mild stimulant, non addictive, and until recently most rural families had at least one plant by the front door so you could conveniently pick a leaf to chew on. The U.S. faux War On Drugs changed most of that. And anyone can see how well we’ve done with that “war”, just like the current “war” on “terrah”. Does it strike anyone how America seems to need war in order to function? How does Canada, for instance, get along without needing to be in a constant state of war? Oh sorry, I forgot, this bit isn’t supposed to be political.
Anyhow, in 1856 a medical pharmacist, Albert Niemann, working at the University of Gottingen in Germany, derived a concentrate of the coca leaf. He was trying to find a way to use it for medicinal purposes. He named it Cocaine.
French was the international language of the day, so Mr. Niemann used the French suffix “ine”, meaning “having the nature of”.
So Cocaine means “having the nature of Coca”. Cocaine was commonly used as a local anesthetic, especially for eye surgery.
Coca Cola used to have trace amounts of Cocaine, until 1909, when they officially changed, bowing to pressure.
“ine” is a very common suffix. Some words using “ine” are crystalline, divine(having the nature of a Diva), uterine, valvoline, marine(having the quality of water), asinine(having the quality of an ass), bovine(having the quality of a cow).


Flirting with the camera…Heavily.

He draws us in with intensity and vulnerability.

This boy is a firecracker!

What? They’re just enjoying the show, the same as you. Get too close and they’ll play a little GrabAss. The girl on the left looks like she’s ready for some action.

I hope I didn’t rattle you with that last shot!You can scroll back up to restore your mood, if you need.

Be loved,